Relaxing the Medic
by Dragonseeker789
Summary: Jazz doesn't want to leave the med bay and Ratchet's to tired to rest! This is mech on mech, don't like, don't read.


Jazz and Ratchet

Relaxing the Medic

Disclaimer: The Transformer universe is owned by Hasbro. I don't own them, just borrow them to use and abuse, pat their heads and send them home. I make no money from this story. (I wish!!) I do own a crowd of party Dragons who would enjoy eating and drinking you out of house, home and castle!!

Rating NC17 (What else!!)

This is a slash story. If you don't like please don't read. I will not accept any responsibility for turning your mind to mush. Nice comments on the other hand will be gratefully received!!

With a groan Ratchet readjusted his optics from their micro mode. The microscopic wires, chips and sensors were finally repaired.

He ran a diagnostic, one red light. Isn't that always the slaggin way!! He ran each individual wire until he found the problem, one tiny relay hadn't soldered properly. This time the diagnostic had green lights across the screen. Stifling another groan he straightened up and glanced around med bay.

Hoist and Grapple were still working on Cliffjumper's legs. The antagonistic little red minibot was offline and silent. Tracks was lying still and quiet, his injuries repaired as were Beachcomber and Air Raid.

Perceptor has been treating the lightly wounded and sending them to rest in their quarters, only the most badly injured were kept in med bay.

The last two, Ratchet and First Aid were still working on. Ratchet looked down, back into the open chest of his bond partner Wheeljack.

Without his chest plate and face mask the Lancia looked smaller and terribly fragile. Ratchet didn't want to think how close they had come to loosing him. The Idiot!!

He turned to check on his apprentice. First Aid was bent over a recombinant Prowl. The 2IC was lying on his front, head on his crossed arms, the med table automatically compensating for his shape, he looked oddly peaceful, as if he had just gone offline in his quarters. First Aid stretched with a small moan.

"Fixing ripped off doorwings is a major pain in the aft as well as a pain in the back. Ay Boss?"

Nodding, Ratchet glanced at the Datsun's open back.

"That's good work. Sparkling."

First Aid perked up. Praise indeed from Ratchet. "How's he doing?" He looked at Ratchet's patient.

"He'll live to blow himself up again. Thank the Matrix."

First Aid reached out and patted his superiors arm. "He saved Prowl, Cliffjumper and us."

Nodding, Ratchet turned back to his bonded. "I'll finish reconnecting his sensor net."

Hands moving automatically, Ratchet thought back to the battle that morning. Had it only been such a few short hours ago?

The Deceptercon's had attacked a dam; the human workers had been sensible and fled at the first sight of them. Soundwave had been producing cubes and the seekers had been filling them up and loading them into Astrotrain as fast as possible.

When Prime and the Autobots had shown up, the triple changer has fled with his precious cargo. Ratchet and First Aid had quickly received their first casualty. Cliffjumper was dropped off by Silverbolt.

As the two medics's worked, Ratchet had glanced up the hill to see Prowl outlined against the sky directing the battle. Their very own Steel Angel.

The first inkling they had of trouble was when Prowl had crashed to the ground scant meters from them, followed by the hulking black form of Motormaster.

Ratchet whipped his laser gun from subspace and began firing at the Stunticon. He moved to defend his assistant and patient.

He might as well have been pelting the semi with rose petals for all the good it did. The Stunticon's forcefield protected him. Prowl, badly shaken had rolled to his feet, produced his acid gun and began firing, it was having as much effect as Ratchet's.

Motormaster laughed. "Which one first? I think………………..You!!"

He lunged at Prowl slapping the acid gun away and fastening one huge hand around the tactician's throat, lifting him from his feet. He gripped Prowl's front bumper with the other and pulled, ripping the bumper completely off. He seemed disappointed that Prowl didn't make a sound, pulling him face to face, Motormaster growled.

"I like a challenge!"

Prowl tried to drive his stiffened fingers into Motormaster's optics. His fingers were stopped about three inches from their target. This just produced more laughter.

"I love having a forcefield."

Prowl was slammed into the ground. "Ratchet, take First Aid and Cliffjumper and run." Prowl sent over the Command channel. Ratchet glanced back. First Aid was dragging Cliffjumper away.

Motormaster lifted Prowl again and threw him down. Prowl tried to scramble away but was stopped by the enormous black foot that descended on his back.

"Not leaving so soon, are you Prowl?"

He caught hold of one of Prowl's upswept doorwings and pulled. The metal screamed as it was torn from his back. Prowl's body convulsed but he still didn't make a sound. Angered Motormaster brought his foot slamming down against Prowl's lower back. He grabbed the other doorwing, twisting as well as pulling. All he got was a small squeak as the Datsun went offline.

Ratchet hadn't stopped firing at the Stunticon leader. Turning from the offline tactician, Motormaster fixed his optics on the medic.

"Now for you. What shall I do first? Rip your arms off or make you watch me rip those two pitiful excuses for target drones apart?"

With bravado he didn't feel. Ratchet snarled. "You get to them only if you can get past me. You glitch ridden Prime clone wantabe!!"

Motormaster snarled with rage and began to stalk towards the medic who had to give ground. That's when Wheeljack had roared around the corner, transforming and jumping onto the Stunticon's back. He subspaced a small metallic circle and slapped it to the black chestplate.

"Process this. Rust Bucket." He said, leaping aside.

The circle began to spark and hum, Motormaster began to shake. Wheeljack crossed to Ratchet's side.

"That should give his forcefield a feedback harmonic and close it down. Are you Okay?"

Ratchet spared a nod as he subspaced his weapon and moved to Prowl's side to assess the tactician's injuries. The 2IC was badly damaged and offline, but the wounds weren't immediately life threatening.

Motormaster was still frozen to the spot, shaking. He managed to lift a hand to his chest and started to claw at the circle, finally managing to rip it off. He cast his baleful optics at the inventor.

"That hurt!!"

Wheeljack only had time to gasp. "OH!!" As he was tackled to the ground, smothered by the Deceptercon's greater weight.

Ratchet felt the pain. Crippling pain that froze his processor. Pain that flooded through his bond link. Pain that made his vocaliser stutter.

Motormaster stood and turned towards the crouching medic. He had a knife in his hand, a knife that dripped Wheeljack's life fuel onto the ground. "Now for you!"

Ratchet couldn't move he could only watch as his termination walked towards him. That's when a crimson comet hit the black semi in the back and sent him flying. Sideswipe turned off his jet pack placing himself firmly between hunter and prey.

Motormaster climbed to his feet. "You're going to regret that scum!" He spat. Sideswipe just smirked.

A golden shooting star erupted from the rocks behind him, knocking the Stunticon forwards onto the ground. Sunstreaker's knife flashed in the sunlight, following a gleaming path down to slice through metal, wiring and components to pin Motormaster's shoulder to the Earth.

"Like playing with knives do you? Well, so do I. Looks like Jack's little gizmo has fried your forcefield. Play with this!!" The knife was twisted and Motormaster howled.

"Incoming." Sideswipe warned as the rest of the Stunticon's made their way towards them. First Aid had been frantically calling his brothers and they arrived first.

Sunstreaker pulled his knife free, leaning forward he hissed. "It's not nice to go after medics, they don't fight back. I DON'T LIKE IT!!" He smacked the Stunticon's face into the ground with each word before rising and sprinting to join the others protecting the wounded.

For once, the Stunticon's decided that discretion was the better half of valour and left. Ratchet still hadn't moved. It was First Aid who ran to Wheeljack's side.

"Boss. Boss. Ratchet!!" He called.

With a curse, Sunstreaker strode across the ground and shook him by the shoulder. "Ratch! Wake up! Jack needs you." That catapulted him back to reality.

"Stay with Prowl!" He ordered as he moved to help First Aid.

It had taken them both an hour just to stabilise the engineer for the journey back to the ARK. Motormaster's knife had done a lot of nasty work inside Wheeljack's body.

Ratchet looked at the equipment tray. "RENAS relay? RENAS relay?" His fingers flicked though the small components.

"Here Ratchet." Came a piping voice, and a hand came into view.

"Thanks Swoop." Ratchet said taking the offered relay and slotting it into Wheeljack's Master Sensor Nexus. The Petradon had been invaluable in keeping them supplied with components and emergency fuel and power packs. Swoop watched eagerly.

"Next one goes in there, in sequence."

Ratchet watched as the Dinobot delicately placed the next relay in and attached it the Master Nexus. He let Swoop complete the procedure with a dexterousness that would have astounded the majority of the Autobots.

"Him Grimlock say, next time see Motormaster. Him Grimlock make him Motormaster eat knife!!"

Ratchet grinned. Motormaster had no idea what a whole world of pain he had opened up by hurting Wheeljack. The Dino's were very protective of their creator.

"Him Prowl's wings fixed? Him Jazz happier now."

That's when Ratchet realised that there had been another person moving around med bay. A black and white someone. Speak of the devil! Jazz walked past, his arms full of power packs. He checked Track's and renewed it, leaving a spare by the diagnostic display, moving on to check the others.

"Him Jazz scared, but hides it. Him Jazz help to be near him Prowl."

Ratchet's optics met Swoop's.

"You're very astute, aren't you Swoop?"

Optic's glowing with humour, small smile gracing his face, the youngest Dinobot nodded. "Oh yes Boss. Finished."

Ratchet's optic's scanned the Master Sensor Nexus. Very neat. Swoop was showing signs of becoming an excellent medic.

Nodding, he said. "Good job. Thank you Swoop."

"You Ratchet most welcome. Him Wheeljack in best hands."

Swoop moved on to replenish the equipment trays. Ratchet shook his head. They still had the capacity to amaze and humble him.

An hour later Ratchet stood in a silent med bay, silent except the steady humming and bleeps from the monitoring and support machinery. He had chased Hoist and Grapple out. Told Swoop to be back in the morning and had Hot Spot come and take a protesting First Aid back to their quarters, with strict instructions to tie him to his bunk if need be. Hot Spot had thrown an arm around his sibling and threatened to do just that.

"Didn't know you loved me that much!!" First Aid said good naturedly, tiredly leaning into his brother's embrace. Hot Spot just laughed as he guided the others weary steps out of the door. Something niggled at his processor.

"Come out Jazz. I know you're in here. I have a diagnostic scanner and I'm not afraid to use it."

For a few moments there was silence, then a sigh from one corner. Ratchet didn't know how he did it, but the shadows moved and solidified into the Porsche.

"How did you know?" Jazz asked quietly. He stopped by Prowl, running a finger along a shiny new unpainted doorwing. "They twitch when he's dreaming." He said. A small grin smirked across his face. Jazz could make them twitch quite frantically when Prowl was awake, but he wasn't going to tell Ratchet that!!

"Because I haven't thrown your sorry aft out at least three times yet. You're harder to spot than one of the twins, that's all."

"Colour helps. You wouldn't even know I was here."

The medic's head shook. "Bad president to start. Go and get some rest."

Jazz's only move was his finger to Prowl's helm. "It's hard to offline when he's not there."

Ratchet sighed. "Come with me. If you tell anyone, if you even think it in the presence of the unholy twosome, I'll weld your grin on upside down!!"

Jazz followed Ratchet into his office. The medic gestured to a small bunk in the corner.

"Use that. I have all these reports to go through."

Jazz was amazed. To his knowledge, no one had ever been invited to just stay in medical. Well, except maybe Wheeljack. He looked at the boxy red and white mech, taking note of the tired slop of the shoulders and the dull gleam in his optics. Ratchet was using his infamous anger to stay online and functional.

"You look like you need it more that me. Take a break. I'll keep watch."

Ratchet was sorely tempted. Every servo in his body cried out for recharge, but he knew it would be futile. He shook his head. "Too wound up."

Jazz tilted his head and regarded him. "Compromise?" He subspaced the largest tartan blanket Ratchet had ever seen and spread it on the floor. Two enormous pillows followed.

"I got this for when I manage to drag Prowl off to the woods…………. for a picnic."

Sitting cross legged on the blanket, he patted next to him.

"A couple of hours recharge and we will both feel better. If any of the alarms go off, you can be there in two shakes of a turbo foxes tail."

As much as he tried to deny it, Ratchet knew he was right. Jazz stretched out, head on one of the pillow. With poor grace, Ratchet lay down, back to Jazz. The blanket was surprisingly soft. Silence for about ten minutes, then with a sigh Ratchet sat up.

"What's the matter?" Jazz asked. "Not comfortable enough?"

"Just can't settle. I'll do those reports." Ratchet said, rubbing his optics tiredly.

The Porsche sat up. "Do you want to try Prowl's relaxer first?" He laughed at the confused look he received. "I know what's wrong with you. You're like Prowl, too much going on in your processor and Jack being hurt just compounds it. Your processor won't let your body relax and go offline."

"And at which medical facility did you study at? Doctor Jazz?" Ratchet asked casting an evil optic at the saboteur.

Jazz just shrugged and lifted his hands. "It works for Prowl. Want to try it?"

Ratchet sighed. What ever it was, he guessed it couldn't hurt. This was Jazz suggesting it not Sideswipe. "What do I do?" he asked resignedly.

"Just lie on your front and get comfortable." Jazz grinned as he watched his friend comply with his instructions. When he was ready, Jazz moved and gently straddled Ratchet's hips, as expected Ratchet jumped, looking over his shoulder.

"It's okay, just trust me and relax."

Slowly Ratchet did. Jazz put his hands onto the base of the white back, thumbs either side of the spinal array and began to rhythmically push and move his hands slowly upwards.

The body under his started to twitch as servos were manually manipulated. Jazz shook his head, no wonder the medic couldn't relax if his servo net was so badly aligned. He found one batch of sensors that had seized up entirely. He concentrated on them for several minutes, allowing a little low frequency sound to seep from his hands as well.

Ratchet gave a small moan. This felt wonderful.

Feels like the Dinobots have been playing football in your sensor array. Everything is misaligned."

"UMMMM. That's what happens when you spend hours hunched over someone's open chest."

Jazz worked slowly and carefully up the spinal strut and across the tense shoulder braces. Ratchet's neck was so stiff he squeaked, but the magic hands of Jazz eased the tension away. Then slowly over the back of the white helm and down the sides. Ratchet was enjoying this immensely. He wondered idly if Jazz would teach Jack. The medic could get to like this kind of treatment.

Jazz moved his hands back down to Ratchet's waist and began to work on his side seams; this was far more sensitive terrain. Ratchet squirmed as Jazz's touch became more intimate. Jazz slowly lowered his body down onto Ratchet's and began to kiss the back of his neck. Ratchet turned his head and gasped.

"Jazz!! What are you doing? We're both bonded."

Jazz kissed along the revealed jaw line and cheek. "Trust me. We're not betraying our mates. This is just a little sharing to help you to relax.

His fingers had worked their way into the gaps in Ratchet's side's, gently stroking the wiring and tweaking the sensor nodes; the low frequency sound was spreading ripples of pleasurable warmth through out the newly realigned sensor net, which in turn began to ignite other feelings and needs in Ratchet. While bonded couples could interface outside the bond, they rarely did.

OH, but this felt just so slaggin good!!

Jazz nipped, licked and kissed gently at Ratchet's audio, grinning at the gasps and moans this elicited. The Grouchy Grizzly was turning nicely into a Teddy Bear.

Ratchet was finding that his body's desires were rapidly over riding his processor. So, Okay, he and Jack weren't the most demonstrative couple ever, but that didn't mean that each didn't care for the other, and yes, it had been a while…………..It had been the Pit of a while since…..

"OHHHH!! That's so nice Jazz." Had he said that?

Jazz grinned. Pulling a hand free, he caught hold of one of Ratchet's hand's in his, turning it to bring it above the Red Cross on the shoulder, palm facing his face. Ratchet's optic's glowed with alarm.

"Jazz. NO!! My hands!!"

"It's Okay. I know how sensitive a medics hands are. Trust me."

Very gently, he blew air over the trapped hand, moving his thumb to lightly caress the palm, fingers fondling the back and wrist. Bringing the hand closer he brushed his lips over the finger pads, feeling the delicate and sensitive micro sensors embedded in them flare into life. He started on the pinkie, gently stroking it with his glossa, blowing on the digit and kissing the pad, sucking it slowly in and out of his mouth.

Ratchet dropped his head to the floor, gasping in cool air. The exquisite sensations from his hand making any coherent argument dissipate. All he could do was moan helplessly as his neural net was ignited and flared like a Supernova.

Jazz could feel the sporadic pulses of the medic's electromagnetic field begin to fall into rhythm with his own; he increased the amount and harmony of the low frequency sound waves that were flowing into the now helpless body beneath his. After he had treated each finger to his glossa delight. He said breathlessly.

"Ratch, turn over."

He lifted himself as Ratchet turned. His habitual grin bloomed incandescently as he observed the erotic look on the silver face. Ratchet's hands caught his helm and pulled him into one of the most carnal kisses he had ever experienced and that included both the twins at the same time.

You can't turn a Grizzly on and not expect to get a little scratched. This time it was Jazz who moaned helplessly as Ratchet seemed to be trying to suck the glossa right out of his mouth.

Ratchet slid his hands up to Jazz's 'horns,' The micro sensors keened as they interacted with the sensitive nodes making Jazz feel as if they were turning to molten liquid that would drip slowly off his helm.

Jazz brought one hand up to Ratchet's face to delicately run his fingers over and under the red chevron that graced the medic's forehead. Prowl's was surprisingly tactile sensitive. Ratchet broke the kiss and dropped his head back, optic's flickering on and off, making gasping little mewing noises of ecstasy, body arching frantically upwards into the Porsche's. Legs tangling.

Jazz fastened his lips ravenously onto the soft metal at Ratchet's offered throat, using mouth and glossa to bring the underlying sensor net to a quivering frenzy.

Ratchet's hands flowed across the body above him. It felt like liquid lightning flashing though his neural net as the micro sensors activated and sensitised each relay, sensor and node.

A dark hand stole under his bumper to tease the tiny responsive wiring, sending ecstatic euphoria surging through the black and white form. The other tracing his back to settle on his aft, fingers stroking.

Jazz could feel his fuel pump pounding and his engine racing, hearing the answering growl of Ratchet's, sounding remarkably bear like.

Electromagnetic fields twisted, writhed and glowed as their passion mounted. They were both pulling air through intakes as fast as possible as their internal systems heated and red lined. Ratchet's hands clutched spasmodically at Jazz's shoulders. His body convulsing as he entered sensory climax. Jazz shuddering, went with him.

They lay gasping, Jazz slid off the medic, raising his head to watch Ratchet's face. Optics flickered and faded as the exhausted mech slipped easily into a peaceful recharge.

"Works like a charm on Prowl too."

Jazz gently placed a pillow beneath the white helm. He pulled his pillow under his head and snuggled into Ratchet. He wasn't Prowl, no twitchy doorwings, but he would do.

First Aid walked into the med bay, everything was quite and peaceful. There had been no alarms during the night. Hot Spot hadn't needed to tie him to his bunk, the second he had put his head down he had been offline. Swoop had been standing by the door of Ratchet's office, he turned and gestured for First Aid to come over, he placed his finger on his lips. Intrigued, First Aid joined him.

His first thought was 'Where did a blanket that big come from?' The second. 'Did someone drug Ratchet?' And the third. 'Why is he cuddling Jazz like he's the world's biggest black and white cuddly toy?' He looked amazed at Swoop, who beckoned him away, silently closing the door.

Giggling the Dinobot said. "Him Jazz help him Ratchet offline. Is good. When Him Ratchet not offline, grouch like him Grimlock with sore tail."

First Aid nodded. "Yes, he could get a gold medal in grouching. I think we will let them rest."

Quietly they checked on their patients. Everyone was going to be fine.

Ratchet floated in the place between offline and consciousness. He felt blissfully relaxed. A body was snuggled into his chest and his arms were rapped around it. He slowly moved a hand up to the others helm, to begin to stroke the head fins, he liked his head fins stroked………….No head fins? What had Jack done with them? Then came the realisation that it wasn't Wheeljack in his arms.

"Fraggin Primus in the Pit!!"

He sat up suddenly, jerking Jazz out of a truly wonderful dream about himself, Prowl, a large bowl of Energon and handcuffs!!

Ratchet turned a horrified and accusing stare to the Porsche. "What did you…..we….do last night?"

Jazz 'blinked'. He needed a moment or two for his processor to wake up and tell him that, no, a restrained kneeling Prowl didn't need Energon licking off his new doorwings…………Not yet any way.

"HUUUU What!!" Was the intelligent retort.

Ratchet loomed closer. "You. Me. Last night."

Jazz's processor finally, reluctantly, pulled itself from Prowl and Fun to Medic and NOT HAPPY. He grinned and leaning quickly forward, brushed lips with Ratchet, who pulled back startled.

"Morning Merry Medic. How did you offline? How do you feel this morning?"

Ratchet had to admit. "Well and relaxed. But ………" His voice trailed off.

Jazz put a hand on his arm. "All we did was share a little pleasure. We are not having an affair. It was a one off to help you relax so that you could offline. So stop feeling guilty."

"What do I tell Jack? What will you tell Prowl?"

Jazz laughed, low and pleasantly, like the sun filtering through clouds.

"Prowl understands. Occasionally, friends need a helping hand….or two!! He's done it before, I've done it before. If anything it strengthens what we have. Neither of us is jealous of the other. We know that we have sharing, kind and compassionate mates. What you tell Jack is up to you."

Ratchet felt a little better. Prowl wouldn't be trying to turn him into a Swiss Cheese Sculpture with his acid gun, for tempting Jazz into a night of illicit passion. Not that he would ever admit to anyone just how much he had enjoyed it.

Once Wheeljack was up and functional, he was going to drag him into the stock room, and weld the door shut!! It had been far too long. The engineer would enjoy a massage; and, if he knew what was good for him, return the favour. Ratchet's optic's met the sapphire visor.

"Just where do you get these rugs from?" He asked.

Written with Jazzmancometh in mind. How to have your bonded and a bit on the side!!


End file.
